The Night of the Opéra de Paris
by Andamogirl
Summary: James West and Artemus Gordon are in Paris for a special assignment and meet their French counterparts of the Sûreté Générale, Jacques Cardinal and Arthur Gourdon. Now updated!
1. Part One

**THE NIGHT OF THE OPERA DE PARIS**

 **By Andamogirl**

A/N: The Opera de Paris is a 1,979-seat opera house, which was built from 1861 to 1875. Now called the Palais Garnier it was built by the French architect Jean-Louis Charles Garnier. The style is monumental and considered Second-Empire Beaux-Arts style (Napoleon III era). The Palais Garnier is one of Paris' most famous monuments with Notre Dame Cathedral, the Louvre, or the Sacré Coeur Basilica. The Thomas Jefferson Building of the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. is modelled after the Palais Garnier, most notably the facade and Great Hall.

Reference to the season 1 episode The Night of the Whirring Death.

Reference to my story "The Night of the First Mission".

 _Bessie: And all I try to be is a little bit good. And where does it get me? Blown up with a lousy Italian tenor._

 _Artie: Baritone._

 _Bessie: Oh, stop that sweet talk._

The Night of the Whirring Death

A two part challenge story.

Challenge issued by Tripidydoodah. It was her turn. "Write a story basing the boys in England or France at the same period of time. You must retain the same characters and names as they have now. Inevitably I chose France (I'm French).

Okay, in my story my French characters don't have English names, it doesn't sound right, but French ones. But James is Jacques in French and West is a Cardinal point. As for Arthur the common nickname used is Artie, and Gordon is considered to be derived from Gourdon in Saône-et-Loire, France.

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

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 **PART ONE**

 _Paris, France_

 _4_ _th_ _of January 1875_

 _One day before the Opera de Paris inauguration_

 _Hôtel du Lion d'Or, place de la Bastille_

Special agent James West woke again with a start, hearing horses neighs and the noises of their hooves on cobblestones.

He was disoriented for a few seconds when he heard people talk loudly in the dimly street – not in English but in French – and then a carriage going away.

He remembered that president Grant had sent Artemus and him here, in Paris, to protect the Chairman of the Foreign Relations of the Senate, Senator Harry Graham. The Senator had been invited by Patrice de Mac Mahon, President of the French Republic to the inauguration of the brand new Paris opera. Some rumors in Washington emanating from the French community there had reached the Secret Service about a possible assassination of the politician – who was a good friend of the POTUS - during the official ceremony. Those rumors referred to a plot involving French royalists who wanted some way to sabotage the long friendship with the US in order to isolate France from its allies - starting with the US. They didn't want to be disturbed by any outside intervention intended to help the Government when they made their coup d'état in order to restore the monarchy.

He stood, stifled a yawn and rubbed his tired puffy eyes. It was the third time he had been awoken that night: the first time because of people talking loudly in the corridor, as everyone slept, and the second time because of dogs barking in the street, he thought and regretted that Senator Graham hadn't invited Artie and him to stay in the US Embassy located in a building along the edge of the _Bassin de l'Arsenal_. They should have stayed at his side in order to protect him, but the politician had said a firm no. He was safe in the Embassy and 'needed space' after being escorted for several weeks from Washington to Paris under the close surveillance 24 hours a day of two Secret Service agents, he had told Artie and him. So they had found a room with twin beds in a hotel of the _Place de la Bastille_ , close to the Embassy, he added in his mind.

He glanced around him. For once, they hadn't found a room in a cheap hotel, but a grand standing one, the _Hôtel du Lion d'Or_. President Grant had been generous with the mission expenses.

The hotel room was very nice with floral, colorful wallpaper, golden moldings, gilded bronze lamps and mirrors, thick colored carpets, red comfortable seats also gilded, paintings showing the French countryside and large, comfortable beds with soft mattress. It was warm in the vast room thanks to the central heating, the hot air coming through vents – gilded - one on each wall. The attached bathroom looked like a mini version of ancient Roman baths, with Corinthian pilasters and a symphony of colored marbles, a shell-shaped onyx sink and a big bronze bathtub decorated with golden lion heads.

He increased the intensity of the light provided by the oil bedside lamp in gilded bronze and, looking to his right he saw that Artie's bed was empty and as the conversations in the street progressively ceased he noticed a series of loud purrs and meows.

Cats!

He headed toward the opened French windows lined with large velvet red curtains, opening onto the balcony and spotted his partner sitting cross-legged there. His partner was wearing his winter coat on top of his warm flannel pajamas. He was surrounded by half a dozen stray cats of different species and colors, some of them purring in pleasure as Artie petted them, others meowing to be petted in their turn. In cat-lover heaven, the older man was smiling broadly.

He stepped onto the balcony and joined Artie, scaring the cats which dispersed, bouncing away on the balustrade and then on the side balconies, meowing in displeasure – all except one, a big, gray, fluffy feline with bright green eyes, white whiskers and a scar across its forehead, which stayed curled up contentedly on Artemus's lap. "Sorry," he said as the cat looked up at him in curiosity.

Petting the cat's head, Artemus waved his other hand in dismissal. "Don't be. Stray cats are easily frightened." He paused, looking down at the remaining feline. "But this one is different. She needs a human's love and wants to be adopted. But I can't adopt her as we already have two resident cats in the train. Marmalade and AG wouldn't tolerate her on board. Cats are territorial. So I'm not going to bring her with me in the US, but I can try to find her loving owners and a nice home, here in Paris."

Sitting cross-legged beside his partner Jim reached out, rubbing the cat's chin against his outstretched fingers eliciting more purrs. "That's a good idea. Besides, she's meowing in French, so Marmie and AG wouldn't understand her." Then he chuckled.

Playing with the cat's swaying tail, Artie nodded. "You're absolutely right. They talk to humans with their own language. It's a fact, Jim."

Cocking an eyebrow, Jim said, "I was joking buddy… You really think so?"

Artemus nodded. "Yes. Cats have their own language, whether is it oral - cats use more than a dozen sounds, each having its own meaning - or behavior-like, like when a cat comes up and rubs back and forth against you, and wraps its tail across your calves, or sits on your newspaper when you're reading it, etc. and they do that all the time. I'm actually working on a 'pet project' of mine, an essay about cats' behaviors, taking Marmie and AG as examples. It's in hiatus now that we're here. When I'm back home, I will write another paragraph on 'do cats speak foreign languages?' I'm sure they do. For that I will need to contact my pen pals from the 'International Cats Love club'."

Surprised Jim said, "I didn't know that. I thought you were working on an essay about General Grant's battles?"

Running a finger on the cat's head, between his two pointed ears, the left one being notched, Artie replied, "I finished it before we left New York. The President will be the first to read it - so he can make corrections and comment on it." And the cat pushed against his hand lovingly in return.

Jim smiled. "I'm sure he'll love it. So, you couldn't sleep either because of the noise?"

Playing with the purring cat's tail again, Artemus responded, "No, because I'm nervous. Anything could happen tomorrow, even if I have planned everything with the Senator ahead of the inauguration and it makes me nervous. You know I love to have everything organized to the smallest details, but during our missions, sometimes – no correction, almost every time there are surprises that lead to chaos… and I hate chaos."

Placing a soothing hand on his partner's shoulder, Jim smiled and said, "Life always has surprises, it would be dull and boring otherwise. _C'est la vie_!" He stood and added, "Come back to bed Artie, we'll have a long, long day tomorrow… beside it's freezing outside and you and I don't want to catch a cold." The rain started. A few cold drops at first and then it was raining heavily within seconds.

Glancing at the _Colonne de Juillet_ illuminated by lampposts and located just a street away, Artie said, "I traveled around the world when I was young and a sailor and I visited many beautiful cities, but Paris is the most beautiful one!… And it's a shame we don't have any free time to visit it. We haven't left the Senator since we've been here and once the inauguration is over, we will have to leave for the _Hâvre_ and take a boat back home." He sighed and stood, cradling the cat in his arms. "We'll meet the two agents of the _Sûreté Générale_ protecting the French President tomorrow morning for a private visit to the opera house before the Inauguration takes place, to locate the spots where assassins could hide themselves or hide bombs. They'll join us in the restaurant for the _petit-déjeuner_. I can't wait to eat the French pastries…"

Going back to the bedroom, followed closely by his partner who closed the French windows behind him, with one hand, keeping the cat against his chest with the other, Jim asked, "What do we know about them?" Then he disappeared into the bathroom only to appear a moment later with two towels.

Rubbing the feline's neck, Artie chuckled softly. "Well, they are delicious. My preference goes to the _pains au chocolat_ …" And couldn't help but lick his lips, his mouth watering in anticipation.

Coming back into the bedroom Jim placed a towel on Artie's bed and, using the other, he started to dry off his cow-licked wet hair. "I was talking about our French counterparts." Then he removed his rain-damp pajamas, folded pants and jacket on the back of a chair and toweled his naked body dry. He smiled and continued, "And I prefer _croissants_. Yours are fabulous, buddy, _c'est un délice_!"

Lowering the fluffy feline onto the bed where it instantly started its grooming, Artemus said, "Thanks, but I don't have the skills of French pastry chefs, their _'tour de main'_."

Jim opened his _malle de voyage_ (travel trunk) and pulled out navy pajamas before putting them on. "All your pastries are delicious. Those French _pâtissiers_ are unable to make chocolate chip cookies and citrus cheese like you do, you can't be beat! "

Smiling, pleased by his best friend's compliment, Artie took his wet, warm coat off and folded it on the back of a Napoleon III style chair. He picked up the towel and wiped his soaked curled hair with it. "I don't know much about them," he said. "While you were talking, I mean while you were flirting with that lovely French woman at that reception au _Palais de l'Elysée_ , I was talking with the _Directeur de la Sûreté Générale_. He just told me their names, Jacques Cardinal and Arthur Gourdon..." He dropped the wet towel to the carpet too and took off his wet pajama pants before removing his dry jacket.

He would sleep naked tonight, he thought, too tired to open his travel trunk to take out his second pair of white striped pajamas.

He yawned and added, "And that they are the best agents of the criminal investigative bureau of the _police de Paris_ ".

Jim smiled. "And we are the best agents of the US Secret Service! We're going to form a group of experts, that's perfect."

Glancing at Jim already in bed, Artemus slid between the sheets and smiled when the cat curled up on his pillow, beside his head. "Yes we are." He frowned and said, "There's something that still puzzles me… The _Directeur_ was stunned when he saw me… and even more stunned when he saw you. I asked him why, but he just had a broad smile and said, " _Vous le découvrirez assez vite, Monsieur Gordon_ \- you'll find out soon enough, Mr. Gordon." He relaxed and petted the cat's white furred belly. "Well, I'll see. Good night Jim."

Dimming the light, Jim replied, "Good night Artie, sleep well." He watched the cat nuzzle and lick at his partner's face then closed his eyes. He drifted off lulled by the purrs and the repetitive noise of the rain spattering against the window.

WWW

 _The next morning_

 _Restaurant of the Hôtel du Lion d'Or_

 _5_ _th_ _of January 1875_

Pouring himself a third cup of brownish dark, steaming _café au lait_ Artemus said, "Coffee is far better here in Paris hotels than in… well, the entire US hotels!" He pointed at the elegant basket filled with perfect, warm buttery pastries, all golden and crispy. "Mmm, it smells delicious! And the _viennoiseries_ are a heavenly sight!" He picked up a _croissant,_ and French-like, he dunked one end into the hot beverage. He waited for a few seconds while the coffee permeated the puff pastry then wolfed it down, making happy noises.

He chose a golden _brioche_ covered with icing sugar then and took a bite, closing his eyes in delight as it literally melted in his mouth. He ate it, slowly, savoring the taste, letting out ecstatic noises.

Smiling, amused by his best friend's childish comportment, Jim kicked Artie's shin under the table covered with a flowery cloth. "Artie, you're not 6 year old! Behave like an adult!" And Artemus Gordon, 45 years old stuck his tongue out at him. He let out a blast of laughter. "5 year old!"

The older man kicked Jim's shin back. "Don't interrupt me when I'm eating French pastries, I consider that as a sin!" He took a caramelized _pain aux raisins_ , licked his fingers and tore a piece off the pastry and popped it in his mouth. "Oh my God!..." he breathed out, the tepid vanilla _crème pâtissière_ filled his mouth, and closed his eyes in bliss.

Chuckling mockingly, Jim took a sip of hot chocolate covered with a layer of whipped cream which was making a splash in the French capital. He couldn't help but let out a 'Mmmmmm…" of pleasure and close his eyes in bliss and it was Artie's turn to chuckle mockingly.

Opening up a piece of bread with a knife, Artemus said, "I'm already salivating thinking about what I'm going to eat for lunch. I'd like to go to a _brasserie_. I'm sure our French colleagues know good ones around the _opéra_." Then he plunged a little spoon in a pot of extra jelly made from quinces and spread a more than generous layer of it on his _tartine._

His brow furrowed, Jim asked, "What kind of jam is this?"

Pushing the pot toward his best friend, Artemus replied, "It's extra jelly made from quinces, _coings_ in French. My mom made pots of it when I was a boy. There was a big quince tree behind the barn. It's de-li-cious! Quince is too hard, astringent and sour to be eaten raw, so they need to be cooked. They are used to make jam, jelly and quince pudding which is an absolute delight!"

Taking the spoon, Jim used it to scoop up a little of quince jelly and licked it. "Mmmm… it has a special taste, but it's good."

Placing another spoon in the pot, Artemus said, "I will make quince jam when we return, if I find any. It's better than orange marmalade."

Jim finished his creamy, now tepid chocolate, and said, "Go back to your mom's house and ask her to make pots of quince jelly for you – if the tree's still there, of course."

Biting down on his _tartine de confiture de coings_ , Artie nodded. "That's a very good idea. What about going there for our next leave?"

Pouring coffee in a clean cup, Jim nodded. "I'd love that." He frowned noticing that Artemus had been turned into a living statue of utter stupefaction. He was looking in the direction of the door… and glanced there too. He gasped then stayed open-mouthed with an incredulous expression on his face.

Then Artie breathed out, "I know now why the Director of the _Directeur de la Sûreté Générale_ was stunned when he saw me…"

There was a man on the other side of the room that looked exactly like him. No, not exactly like him he realized after a rapid but thorough observation. They had the same face but the Frenchman had some differences: for example his hairstyle was cut very short and oiled flat and he had a touch of silver at his temples, he thought and he noticed that his counterpart was dressed _à la mode française_ with a black three piece suit and an unbuttoned beige double breasted top coat and a brown contrasting collar. His waistcoat was decorated with a watch chain, wide ascot tie, he had black shiny square-toed shoes, and a top hat and beige gloves. He smiled, 'He's so elegant… like me.'

In his turn, Jim observed his double from head to toe. The Frenchman had an oiled down hairstyle and a thin moustache, reminding him of his 'disguise' as Frank Slade, the notorious outlaw. Otherwise, there were no differences. He was wearing a dark gray three-piece suit and a winter coat with braid trim on the collar and lapels over a matching waistcoat decorated with a prominent watch chain. He had a wing-collared shirt and dark tie in a bow knot and had a woolen flat cap on his head.

He had more casual clothes than his partner, he thought, probably because he wanted to be discreetfor his mission.

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Standing next to the door of the restaurant, Jacques Cardinal was the first to exit that moment of intense astonishment.

He elbowed his partner and said, " _Tu sais, Artie, quand on me disait qu'il existait un sosie de moi quelque part dans le monde, je n'y croyais pas…"_ ("You know, Artie, when I was told that there was a look-alike of me somewhere, in the world, I didn't believe it ... ")

He took 30 seconds to observe his 'colorful' American look-alike. Unlike him his brown hair was left _au naturel_ and he had no moustache. He was wearing a royal blue suit worn with a light blue shirt, a silver waistcoat and an ice-blue tie. His black boots were worn under his pant legs.

Staring at his American doppleganger too, the older French agent breathed out, " _Je n'y croyais pas non plus Jacques…_ _Mais cet homme pourrait être mon frère jumeau… C'est incroyable !"_ ("I didn't believe it either Jacques... But this man could be my twin brother... It's incredible!"). " _Regarde! On voit que c'est un Américain_." (Look! We can see that he's an American.").

Observing the older US agent, Jacques nodded. He was dressed the American way, with a light brown jacket with tan lapels worn with dark brown pants. He had black knee high boots over pant legs, a yellow shirt, a gold and brown waistcoat and a black string tie. He nodded. " _C'est vrai, mais son partenaire est plus beaucoup plus jeune et plus beau, comme moi!"_ ("That's true, but his partner is a lot younger and more beautiful, like me!"). Then he smirked.

Arthur 'Artie' Gourdon placed a finger against his temple and tapping it, he replied, " _La beauté n'est rien face à l'intelligence… et au talent, Jacques_." (Beauty is nothing in comparison to intelligence ... and talent, Jacques.") And he grinned before chuckling. He removed his gloves and placed them in the pockets of his coat. Then he sighed, disappointed. " _Je m'attendais à ce qu'ils aient leur ceinturon avec leur revolver…_ _Je suis déçu_." ("I was expecting them to have their gunbelts and holsters with their shiny revolvers... I'm disappointed."). Then he pouted childishly.

Amused, Jacques chuckled. " _Désolé camarade, quand on est à Paris, on vit comme un Parisien, pas comme un homme de l'Ouest._ _Il faut s'adapter mon cher."_ ("Sorry comrade, when you're in Paris, you live like a Parisian, not like a man from the West. You have to adapt _mon cher._ "). Placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder, Jacques said, " _Je ne parle pas Anglais, mais toi si, alors tu traduiras ce que je leur dirai, d'accord?"_ ("I don't speak English, but you do, then you will translate what I tell them, okay?")

His eyes still focused on his American double sitting at the table, staring at him, Arthur nodded _._ _"Oui, pas de problème. Allons rencontrer nos amis Américains et faire leur connaissance._ " ("Yes, no problem. Let's meet our American friends and get to know them.").

They entered the room and stopped next to the two US Secret Agents. Arthur offered his hand to the man who looked like him – almost.

Now that he was close to the American man, he noticed that the resemblance wasn't exact. The other man's hair was curled and natural, and black, with no touch of gray at his temples. His eyes were dark chocolate and his cheekbones more prominent than his and he had a tiny scar between his eyes. "Hello, my name is Arthur Gourdon, and my partner and best friend here is Jacques Cardinal. We both work for the _Sûreté Générale_ ," he said with a light French accent.

In response, Artemus stood and shook his almost doppleganger's hand warmly, observing the other man's with awe and deep curiosity, noticing the slight differences here and there. For example, the Frenchman had black eyes and the wrinkles on his forehead were different from his. Then he shook Jim's very close 'mirror' image's hand too. "Hello, my name is… " He paused and said with no trace of American accent, " _Bonjour Messieurs, Je m'appelle Artemus Gordon et l'homme qui est en face de moi et vient de se lever est mon partenaire et meilleur ami, James West._ _Nous travaillons pour les Services Secrets Américains_." ("Hello Gentlemen, my name is Artemus Gordon and the man who is in front of me and just got up is my partner and best friend, James West. We work for the US Secret Service.").

He glanced at the younger Frenchman and noticed slight differences with his Jim too, like the color of his eyes, clear blue and not green and he had no scar underneath his lower lip.

It was Jim's turn to speak, "And… _Et Artemus et moi sommes enchantés de faire votre connaissance_ ," ("And Artemus and I are delighted to meet you"), he said with a thick American accent. Then he smiled, proud of himself and gave Artie a wink. He had learned some French while living with Artemus who was fluent in several languages. " _Je parle un petit peu français_." ("I speak a little bit of French.").

Surprised to hear the other men speak French perfectly, Arthur said, "It's a pleasure too, Sirs. _C'est un plaisir, Messieurs._ "

Gesturing to the table covered with a copious breakfast, Artemus said, " _Asseyez-vous, je vous en prie, et partagez le petit-déjeuner avec nous._ " ("Sit down, please, and share breakfast with us.") and he reached for another pastry.

Easing themselves into chairs at their breakfast table, the two Frenchmen gladly accepted a cup of steaming coffee and Arthur couldn't resist taking a crispy _croissant_ from the basket of fresh pastries. Then he took the pot of milk and poured a little of it into his coffee, making a _café au lait_. He broke _le croissant_ in two pieces, sending crumbs onto the napkin, and dipped one piece into his coffee with milk before putting it in its mouth while watching Artie do the same. " _Délicieux!_ Delicious," he said, mouth full, then let out ecstatic noises.

Smiling, Jacques nudged his partner and said to the two Americans, " _Veuillez pardonner mon ami, dès qu'il mange quelque chose de bon, il perd tout son savoir-vivre."_

And Arthur translated. "Please forgive my friend, as soon as he eats something good, he loses all his good manners." Then he took a sip of coffee.

Chuckling, Jim glanced at Artemus. "Same thing with Artemus here. You should have seen him letting out happy noises when he was eating a brioche. Luckily there was no one here but us, otherwise I would have been ashamed of his childish behavior. Artemus is a gourmet and an excellent cook who can beat any reputed Chef. He even took lessons in French cuisine when he stayed here for a few months, when he was a young man. He could have become a great Chef but chose to be an actor."

Surprised, Arthur said, "Really? What an extraordinary coincidence! I wanted to be a reputed Chef too when I was younger. Then I joined a circus where I was juggler, an acrobat, a knife thrower and magician… Then I decided to change my life and joined the Army and became a Captain. Then I was seriously injured during the battle of Sedan, September 2, 1870, during the Franco-Prussian War… I spent 6 months at the hospital. Then, I received an honorable discharge. After that, I opted for a different profession and I became a cat burglar. I was the best in Paris."

The two US agents exchanged a surprised look. "You? A cat burglar?" Jim let out.

Smiling, Arthur nodded. "Yes, me. I had a very spendthrift lifestyle when I was a Captain and wanted to keep it that way. I still love expensive things, like clothes, furniture, art, for example, but now I'm very well payed for what I'm doing." Looking at his partner, he added, "Three years ago, Jacques managed to catch me after a two hour pursuit on _the toits de Paris_ (Paris' rooftops). He saved my life as I was going to fall to the ground then he put me under arrest. End of my career as a robber."

He translated what he had just said to his partner in French.

Smiling, Jacques nodded. " _C'était ma première mission en tant que jeune recrue de la police de Paris_ ," he said. ("It was my first mission as a young recruit of the Paris police.").

Arthur continued, "We had an immediate _coup de foudre_ , future best friends way. We met again and became friends after I spent three months in a prison. I was very fortunate not to end up in the _Bagne de Cayenne,_ for life. But I had powerful friends in political circles from my time as an officer in the Army, and they owed me a favor, so they helped me to stay at the _Prison de la Santé_ , here in Paris and managed to shorten my prison sentence considerably. Then, Jean persuaded the _Directeur de la Sûreté Générale_ to employ me, as an agent because I had multiple talents I could use to stop criminals."

He translated again in French what he had just said to his best friend. Then he took a sip of coffee with milk and added, " _Merci beaucoup Jacques_."

Looking at Artie, who was spreading a thick layer of strawberry jam on a croissant he had cut longitudinally, Jim said, "Like I said before Artemus is a _gourmet_ and he adores cooking. I feast every day, in the morning, at noon and in the evening since we became partners".

It was Artemus's turn to translate in French what Jim had just said then he added, "Jim _adore ma cuisine et dévore tout ce que je fais_." ("Jim loves my cooking and devours everything I do.").

Arthur chuckled. "Jacques is addicted to my cuisine too. I don't know how he does not gain weight, whereas I have to watch my figure."

Letting out a frustrated huff, Artemus nodded. "I know the feeling. But here, in Paris, I will make an exception. Everything is so good, _et, c'est bien connu, le meilleur moyen de lutter contre la tentation, c'est d'y céder."_ ("And it is well known, and the best way to fight against temptation is to yield to it.").

Suddenly the fluffy, gray cat which had adopted Artemus jumped on his knees and rubbing against Artie's chest, it started purring. "There you are…I thought you had joined your friends living in the street after you left the hotel room with us," Artie said.

Immediately Arthur reached out and petted the feline's back and tail. "I love cats, I have two cats in the apartment Jacques and I are sharing in the _quartier du Montparnasse_ , a black one called Phobos and a white one called Deimos."

Lifting his eyebrows in surprise, Artie said, "Phobos and Deimos? They were Greek gods, Phobos the god of Fear and Deimos the god of Terror. Why did you give them those names?"

Pouring himself a new cup of coffee Arthur chuckled. "They were little pests when they were just kittens and terrorized the neighborhood's cats, so it was appropriate… and now they're older, they're just adorable. And I was reading a book on Greek classical mythology at that time so… I ended up giving them those names. In the Iliad, Homer mentions the presence of Phobos and Deimos. For example, he tells, "Οἷος δὲ βροτολοιγὸς Ἄρης πόλεμον δὲ μέτεισι, τῷ δὲ Φόϐος φίλος υἱὸς ἅμα κρατερὸς καὶ ἀταρϐὴς…"

He was interrupted by Artemus who finished the quotation, 'ἕσπετο, ὅς τ' ἐφόϐησε ταλάφρονά περ πολεμιστήν'. I love reading Homer's Iliad. You speak ancient Greek very well, Monsieur Gourdon."

Pleased, Arthur smiled broadly and said, "You too! And call me Arthur, _je vous en prie_. ("please"). I'm fluent in several languages, like you do, I suppose?" (Artie nodded). Looking down at the purring cat he asked, "So it's a stray cat? _Un chat des rues?"_

Stroking the cat between her ears, Artie said, "Yes, she is. I found her on the roof with many others and she adopted me. But I can't take her with me. Jim and I already have two cats, Marmalade and AG. They stayed on board the Wanderer, it's the name of our train. _Oui, nous vivons dans un train_. ("Yes, we live in a train"). But the train driver and the fireman are taking care of Marmie and AG while Jim and I are gone. They're accustomed to our frequent absences."

It was Jacques who said first, "You live in a train?" beating his partner on that, who closed his mouth and swallowed a mouthful of _café au lait-ed croissant_.

Looking at his French _sosie_ (doppelganger), Jim nodded. " _Oui, c'est très pratique_ to ("Yes, it is very convenient to")… travel throughout the country. The US is a big country!" He glanced at Artie who had just taken a caramel-covered _chausson aux pommes_. "You should give me more French lessons."

Closing his fingers around a still warm _pain au chocolat_ sitting at the bottom of the basket, Arthur said, "I never left France, I'd like to go to the United States of America and visit your country. Perhaps one day…" Then he took a bite of the pastry. "Mmmm…"

Jacques nodded. _"J'adorerais aller là-bas aussi. Si, Arthur a voyagé dans toute la France, moi je n'ai jamais quitté Paris_ ," he said. ("I would love to go there too. If, Arthur has traveled all over France, whereas I never left Paris,"). And he waited for Arthur to translate, which the older man did.

Licking his caramel-sticky fingers, Artemus nodded. "I'd love to show you my country. Maybe I could ask President Grant to arrange a visit. I'm sure he'll agree."

Seeing that the two Frenchmen were stunned, Jim said, "President Grant loves Artie like he was his own son, he never refuses him anything."

Staring at Jim, Jacques said, " _Vous appelez Artemus 'Artie"? J'appelle Arthur 'Artie' aussi. Tant de ressemblances entre nous, c'est vraiment incroyable!"_ ("You call Artemus' Artie? I call Arthur 'Artie' too. So many similarities between us, it's truly amazing!")

Moving to Arthur's lap, the gray cat rubbed its head against the Frenchman's chest. "I think she loves me too," he said.

Jacques nodded. " _Un autre point commun… et je sais ce que tu vas me dire, que tu aimerais adopter ce chat errant, n'est-ce pas ?"_ ("Another common point ... and I know what you're going to tell me, that you would like to adopt this stray cat, don't you?") And Arthur nodded. " _D'accord._ " ("Okay").

Grinning, Arthur took the purring cat in his arms and said, " _Je vais emmener le chat à l'appartement, puis nous irons ensuite à l'opéra._ ("I'm going to take the cat to the apartment, then we'll go to the opera house."). Now that we have met each other, let's talk about our mission."

WWW

 _Later, in front of the Opéra de Paris_

 _Place de l'Opéra_

 _Midday_

It was pouring with rain.

Holding Arthur's umbrella (the older man had taken it from the apartment along with one for Jacques, when he had let the gray fluffy cat have a meet and greet with Phobos and Deimos one hour before), Artie was protecting Jim and himself, bodies pressed together, from the cold winter rain.

Holding his umbrella, Jacques was keeping himself dry. As for Arthur his hands shoved deep into his pockets, he had opted for a warm raincoat and a hat with a wide brim.

The four men stood in the middle of the _Place de l'Opéra_ , admiring the main façade of the brand new opera house of Paris, dominated on each side by the two gilded figural groups, Charles Gumery's _L'Harmonie_ (Harmony) on the left, and _La Poésie_ (Poetry) to the right.

People circulating around them, in a hurry and holding umbrellas looked at them with awe then with curiosity, saying in a low voice, smiling, " _Regarde!_ _Ce sont des jumeaux!"_ ("Look, they're twins!") or " _Regarde! Deux paires de jumeaux! C'est incroyable! C'est la première fois que j'en vois de ma vie."_ (Look! Two pairs of twins! It's incredible! It's the first time I've seen it in my life.").

Pointing at the _avant-corps_ of the _Second-Empire Beaux-Arts style_ building, ornamented with an abundance of Neo-Baroque decorative elements, Arthur said, "I will give you a complete tour of the exterior later, messieurs, but first, the interior."

They headed toward the main entrance and an officer posted there approached them and saluted. " _Tout va bien, messieurs. Personne n'est entré dans l'opéra. Vous êtes les premiers."_ _Dit-il._ ("Everything is fine, gentlemen. Nobody has entered the opera. You are the first ones," he said.").

Saluting too, Jacques said, " _Merci, Capitaine Blanquart_." And the Captain saluted a second time and headed back toward his men.

They entered the premier vestibule shortly after, where they let their hats, umbrellas and coats, on a white stone bench. Then they passed in front of the wickets, framed by pilasters and columns where the tickets would be sold. After having climbed a few steps, they reached the vestibule of the Control and then they finally reached the masterpiece of the _opéra_ , the _Grand Escalier_. There were multicolored marble, mosaics, columns, lavish gilded statuary and painted ceilings everywhere.

Meeting other guards on their way, they followed their French counterparts through several corridors and stairwells decorated with golden cherubim and nymphs and ended up at the base of the large ceremonial _Grand Escalier_ carved in white marble with a balustrade of red and green marble.

Eyes wide open in awe, Artemus looked up at the pedestals of the staircase decorated with two bronze torcher female statues by Albert-Ernest Carrier de Belleuse and upward at the two divergent flights of stairs that lead to the first storey and further to the _Grand Foyer_. "I've never seen such a beautiful and monumental staircase in all my life!" He let out with enthusiasm.

Ignoring the sumptuous décor Jim was focused on a tall, dark silhouette moving discreetly (or doing his best to) behind the gilded columns of the first storey, to the right. His instinct was telling him that he needed to investigate that, at once.

He elbowed Artie in his side and pointed at the moving shadow. "Look over there Artie… " and Artemus-hawk-eye located the man within seconds. "I thought there was no-one here, except us. That than has no business being here…" He said.

Cocking an eyebrow, Artie nodded. "You're right Jim. And he's trying to hide himself, that's highly suspicious…" Then, he pulled out the revolver that was in the holster under his left arm. "He could be an assassin doing some reconnaissance or he could have hidden bombs here…"

Spotting the black-cladded man in his turn, Arthur said, " _Il se dirige vers le Grand Foyer!"_ ("He's going toward the _Grand Foyer_!").

Imitating his partner Jim glanced at Arthur who had just grabbed his gun too, he kept it in a holster attached to his left calf. He suddenly realized that the Frenchman was left-handed, something he hadn't noticed before. Another difference with 'his' Artie, he thought.

Un-holstering his revolver in his turn (a holster he kept attached to his belt at his back) Jacques said, _"Nous devons l'arrêter et l'interroger."_ ("We have to stop him and question him."). Climbing the stairs of the grand escalier d'apparat two at a time he said, " _James, Artemus allez à droite, Arthur et moi allons à gauche! Nous allons le prendre en tenaille!"_ ("James, Artemus go to the right, Arthur and I will go to the left! We are going to catch him in a pincer movement!").

The two duos of agents separated on the landing, and, once arrived on the first storey, they ran toward the _Grand Foyer_.

Entering the place, Jim and Artie couldn't help but to take a few seconds to admire the long gallery decorated with high mirrors, wall-panelling, parquet flooring, and were amazed by the profusion of sculptures, paintings, gilts and chandeliers, immense, lit too by the bays opening onto the streets and surrounding facades… but came back down to earth as they located the very tall man, dressed in black clothes and wearing a black mask close to one of the bays, trying to hide behind a red velvet curtain.

Guns in hand, the two men saw the French agents enter the other end of the _Grand Foyer_ and run toward the giant.

Both Jim and Artie were running toward the man when he pulled out a gun from his back and aimed at Arthur, right in his heart.

One shot rang out.

The older man grunted as there was a sharp pain in his chest, his gun fell from his grasp, clattering onto the polished wooden floor, then Arthur staggered back, his hand pressed to his chest.

His knees buckled and he collapsed two seconds later.

Jacques who dodged a second bullet as the intruder fired again, pointed his gun at the man who had shot his partner and fired a split second later, twice – hitting the man in the shoulder and right side. He stumbled but stayed upright.

Transferring the gun to his other hand, the man in black fired again but the bullet got lost in the ceiling paintings as he was injured by a third bullet, in his leg. This time he collapsed on the bicolor parquet floor with a heavy thump.

His gun still smoking, Jim joined Jacques next to the black-masked man lying to the floor, unconscious while Artemus dropped down beside his almost double. Arthur was gasping for breath as his ribs burned. His left hand was still pressed to his chest.

He quickly opened the Frenchman's raincoat and discovered… a bullet-proof vest beneath, with the stopped bullet sitting at the level of his heart.

He sighed in relief and smiled. "I invented the same bullet-proof vest a few years ago," he said, as he helped the other man to a sitting position. "Are you okay?"

Pressing his left hand where the bullet was embedded in the armored fabric, Arthur winced, took some harsh breaths and replied the pain showing in his voice, " _Je vais bien, je vais juste avoir un très gros bleu."_ ("I'm fine, I'm just going to have a very big bruise"). He pulled out the bullet then touched his chest and groaned. "A very big bruise and a broken rib too as it seems… He gritted his teeth. "God! Aaah! It hurts!"

Jacques helped his compatriot to stand as Artemus was pulling him up. " _Arthur! Tu vas bien?"_ ("Arthur! Are you okay?"). His voice was shaking. He noticed that there was no blood on his best friend's clothes. Surprised he asked, _Tu es n'es pas blessé?"_ ("You're not injured?"). Then he finally recognized Artemus's latest invention: the bullet-proof vest. _"Merci mon Dieu!"_ ("Thank God!").

Grimacing in pain, Arthur nodded. " _Non, je ne suis pas blessé, ou plutôt si, je suis sûr d'avoir une ou deux côtes cassées à cause de l'impact, car j'ai vraiment très mal… mais je ne suis pas mort, c'est l'essentiel. J'ai bien fait d'écouter mon instinct quand de retour à l'appartement tout à l'heure, il m'a soufflé à l'oreille que j'étais en danger. Si je n'avais pas mis ce gilet pare-balles, je ne serais plus là pour te répondre."_ ("No, I'm not injured, or rather yes, I am, I'm sure to have one or two broken ribs because of the impact, because I really hurt ... but I'm not dead, it's essential. I did well to listen to my instinct when, back at the apartment earlier, it whispered in my ear that I was in danger. If I hadn't put on this bulletproof vest, I would not be here to answer you."). He rubbed his aching chest. "God! The first time I used that bulletproof vest, I asked Jacques to shoot me… and he didn't hesitate a split second!"

He narrowed his eyes, still crossed at his best friend. Seeing that Jacques didn't understand what he had just said, he repeated it in French.

Jacques grinned and replied, " _Bien sûr! Je savais que ça marcherait! Toutes tes inventions fonctionnent! Tu vas m'en vouloir jusqu'à quand? J'avais confiance en toi. Et j'ai toujours confiance en toi."_ ("Of course! I knew it would work! All your inventions work! How long are you going to blame me? I trusted you. And I always trust you.").

Arthur huffed and smiled to his double, _"Merci, Artemus."_ Then he started to remove his bullet proof vest wincing with each movement. He dropped it to the wooden floor. "It's a great invention, but it's heavy. I will improve it, make it lighter."

Patting Arthur's shoulder in a friendly gesture, Artie said, "You know, the first time I met Jim, he shot me. It was at the end of the Civil war during the Siege of Petersburg. He almost killed me."

Stunned Arthur started to blink, gaping too.

Intrigued by his partner's reaction, Jacques said, " _Quoi? Quoi?"_ ("What? What?").

Still pointing his gun at the masked man who was regaining consciousness, Jim said, "I didn't know it was you at that time. You were disguised as a confederate soldier. And I apologized after I discovered I had shot a Union Captain who was a spy."

Artie chuckled. "A handshake and a 'Nice to meet you, I'm James West, General Grant's aide de camp' would have been sufficient as an introduction you know."

Jim smirked. "Too dull."

Even more surprised than before, the older French agent let out, "You were a spy during the American war? I was a spy too – and Captain in the Army. _C'est incroyable!"_ he said, reverting to his mother tongue. Then, in English, he added, "I'm sure you disguised yourself during your missions, right? I did that too, and I still do, because at the _Sûreté Générale_ we mostly work undercover."

Shaking his head in amazement, Arrtie said, "That's fascinating! There are so many similarities between us… That's absolutely amazing! And I'm not talking about those which exist between Jim and Jacques too… Jacques being James in English, to start with and to stay on the subject of names, Jacques calls you 'Artie' and Jim calls me 'Artie' too, and… what is your mother's name Arthur?"

Surprised by the question, Arthur said, "Hélène"… and he smiled. "Let me guess, your mother's name is Helen or Helena."

Moving to join Jim, Artie smiled too. "Helena," he responded. Then, he knelt and removed the black mask from the injured man lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. He gasped in surprise. "Voltaire! I should have recognized his tower-like silhouette."

Both Jacques and Arthur asked in a chorus, _"Vous le connaissez?"_ ("You know him?").

Putting his gun in his holster and picking up Voltaire's gun, Jim said, "Good question. Do the similarities between us stop with us, or do they exist with other people? Is he your Voltaire, or ours? If he's yours, that's bad news for you. It means that you have a Loveless too." He asked the giant. "Where is your Master? Where is Dr. Loveless? Tell me!"

Glaring at Jim, Voltaire said, "I won't tell you anything! You'll never find him!" There was no trace of French accent and it was Voltaire's voice alright, the US agents thought.

Frowning, Artie said, "He's our Voltaire, but that doesn't mean that a French Voltaire doesn't exist, and a French Loveless too. I hope not." Then he slid Voltaire's gun in the pocket of his coat.

Leaning toward Voltaire, Jim asked the other man, "Where is he? Tell me!" But Voltaire didn't respond as he passed out again.

Puzzled and wanting answers, Jacques asked, _"Qui est cet homme? Et qui est Loveless?"_ ("Who is this man? And who is Loveless?").

Jim said, "Dr. Miguelito Quixote Loveless is a brilliant megalomaniac, and our Nemesis. He has tried to kill us many times… It's a long story. I'm wondering what his role is in the plot involving French royalists… But I'll ask him the second he's my prisoner."

Arthur translated for his partner.

Kneeling beside the passed out giant, the younger French agent noticed that his shoes and the lower parts of his black pants were smeared with fresh mud and small pieces of decaying leaves. " _Le bas de son pantalon et ses chaussures sont couverts de vase et de petits morceaux de feuilles en décomposition, et c'est très frais. Comme le Capitaine Blanquart nous a dit que personne n'était entré ici avant nous. Il est donc entré dans l'opéra par une entrée non surveillée par les soldats, où il y a de la vase… et je sais lequel…_ " (The bottoms of his pants and his shoes are covered with mud, and it's very fresh. As Captain Blanquart told us that nobody entered here before us, this man entered the opera house by an entrance not guarded by the soldiers, where there is mud ... and I know which one.").

Arthur nodded and said, _"Oui, moi aussi._ _Il y a un immense réservoir sous l'opéra destiné à contenir les infiltrations souterraines, et il y a un tunnel qui mène à la Seine. Il est entré ici par là, sans que personne ne le voit."_ ("Yes, me too. There is an immense reservoir under the opera house designed to contain the underground infiltrations and there's a tunnel that leads to the Seine. He came here that way, without anybody seeing".).

Kneeling too beside the black clad man, Arthur opened his long coat and discovered a knife, in a sheath at his right side. He took it and slid it in his boot. "You won't need that."

Furrowing his brow Artie noticed that the interior of the coat was covered with unusual big pockets. He snapped his fingers twice. "He had bombs in those pockets! He was here to hide them where they will kill the maximum of people."

Looking at Arthur, Jacques asked, _"Qu'a t-il dit?"_ ("What did he say?"). Then he pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his coat pocket before putting them on Voltaire's wrists.

Opening one of the bays opening on the streets, Arthur responded, " _Artemus a dit que Voltaire a placé des bombes aux endroits où elles feront le plus de victimes."_ He crossed the loggia and leaning over the marble railing of the avant-corps, he cried out to the soldiers posted on the first steps of the front stair, located outside the monument, in front of the heavily sculpted _avant-corps_. _"J'ai besoin d'aide! Venez! Tout de suite!"_ ("I need your help! Come! Right away!")

Immediately a dozen of the soldiers left their positions.

Heading back inside, Arthur glanced at Voltaire, still passed out and said, _"Laissons-le là, il ne pourra pas aller très loin._ _Il sera transporté à l'hôpital le plus proche, l'hôpital de l'Hôtel Dieu."_ ("Leave him here, he won't be able to go very far. He will be transported to the nearest hospital, à _l'hôpital de l'Hôtel Dieu."_ ). Looking at Artie, he added, _"Nous allons aller tous les deux dans le réservoir pour voir si ce Loveless n'y est pas. Si oui, nous l'arrêterons et condamnerons l'entrée. S'il n'est pas là, nous condamnerons l'entrée de toutes façons."_ ("We will both go to the réservoir to see if this Loveless is there. If so, we will arrest him and block off the entry. If he's not there, we will block off the entry anyway.").

Jacques nodded and said to the two Arties, " _Et avec Jim nous allons aider les soldats à rechercher les bombes que Voltaire a caché dans l'opéra!"_ ("And with Jim we will help the soldiers to search for the bombs that Voltaire hid in the opera!").

They separated into two teams.

WWW

 _In the reservoir under the opera house_

Pointing at the broken trapdoor Arthur winced as each movement hurt and said, "He came from the reservoir, no doubt. It was locked when I inspected it yesterday."

Nodding, Artemus took the lantern sitting to the side of the opening that Voltaire had brought and didn't use once inside, because the opera house was lit everywhere. "That will help!" he said.

Arthur pulled open what was left of the rectangular thick piece of wood and went down the metallic steps leading to the dark water.

Following his French counterpart, and holding the lantern, Artie discovered in his turn a boat moored there, at the rusty railing. Arthur noticed a big footprint on the first step, the water there being covered with a thick layer of mud and dead leaves. "He came from here, there's no doubt," he said. "Give me the lantern, Artemus, please."

Glancing around him Artie complied. "There's no one here."

Lowering himself into the boat Arthur said, "Let's inspect the tunnel leading to the Seine, shall we? Loveless could be there waiting for his man to come back."

Nodding again, Artie joined his French counterpart in the boat and untied the rope before taking the oars. Soon after he started to row.

Kneeling at the front of the boat, holding the lantern, Arthur lead Artemus to the tunnel covered by a flattened arch dotted with limestone concretions and bordered on each side by a small concrete ledge, where they spotted big rats running along the moss-covered walls. "The tunnel is long and passes under the _Place Vendôme_ and under the _Jardin des Tuileries_ before reaching the Seine near the _Pont Royal_. The opening is protected by a fixed grid which lets the water flow through."

Still rowing Artie replied, "Something tells me that it's not fixed anymore."

Half an hour later they reached the daylight and the grid… finding there was a large hole in the middle of it open to the river nearby. Large enough for a boat to pass through.

His vision getting used to natural light Artie accelerated his rowing while Arthur grabbed his gun, ready to shoot anything.

They came out on the Seine near the _Pont Royal_.

There was a small sailboat moored at the quay, with a mast which could be folded down so that it could pass under many Paris bridges.

Recognizing the familiar silhouette of Dr. Loveless standing at the bow, Artemus paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and said, "Loveless!" and settled his gun on his lap, ready to open fire.

WWW

Miguelito Loveless was standing at the bow of the sailboat he had rented in London and used to come here, to France waiting for Voltaire, enjoying a cup of hot coffee.

His manservant and bodyguard should come back soon after having hidden time bombs in strategical places in the opera house, he thought.

Looking at the ducks floating on the river, he took a thoughtful sip of his coffee as he imagined the explosions which, soon would kill dozens of people and destroy large portions of the new opera house. Then it would be chaos. He loved chaos.

He smiled when he saw the boat leaving the tunnel. "Ah! Voltaire's back…" But his smile vanished from his lips a few seconds later when he recognized who was on board, rowing. It wasn't Voltaire, but…"No! No! That's not possible… Artemus Gordon!" He let out, stunned.

He dropped his cup on the deck, where it crashed, the hot beverage splashing his pants. He briefly winced as it burnt.

He was astonished to realize that a 'second' Artemus Gordon was at the front of the boat, holding a gun pointed in his direction.

Ignoring for now the question 'how is it possible?' because he had to act quickly to stop the 'two agents', he moved back hastily, his face distorted with anger. "You won't stop me, Gordons!"

He turned around and looking at two of his hulking minions standing there, he ordered them, "Bowman! Peters! Bring me the dynamite box! Now!" His blue eyes darkened, became feral. "There is enough left to vaporize these two men! Let's pulverize them!"

WWW

Rowing at top speed toward the small sailboat, Artemus said, "Loveless! He saw us!" And he felt a shiver going down his spine. "Oh this is so not good… Stand ready to fire Arthur! He's not going to let us move closer!"

Arthur stood ready.

He had just said that to Arthur when two massive men approached the bow. But they weren't holding guns, but bundles of sticks of dynamite.

Rowing backward, his heart pounding against his rib cage, Artemus let out a string of curses between gritted teeth.

Swallowing his panic, Arthur gulped and his face went white. He aimed at the two men and pressed the trigger, twice.

In a flash Loveless's minions ducked behind the wooden rail, the bullets making two holes in it. Then they stood up a few seconds later.

Opening his eyes wide in fear, Arthur mumbled, _"On est mort!"_ ("We're dead!") as the bombs flew in their direction, the short fuses lit.

But they had good enough reflexes to jump out of the boat seconds before the dynamite exploded. There were huge BOOMS, fire and the two agents were catapulted into the air amid a big foamy geyser and clouds of dark, billowing smoke as the boat was shattered, disintegrating in a shower of large splinters of wood which flew in all directions behaving like bullets.

The two men were unconscious before they hit the surface of the Seine a few seconds later, like bloodied ragdolls. They sank in the muddy waters, like stones and they disappeared under the waves caused by the shock.

The close blast was strong enough to make the small sailboat roll and pitch, but it didn't stop Miguelito Loveless from going to the bow to watch his oeuvre a couple of minutes later.

His ears ringing, the diminutive man cackled with joy, while rubbing his hands. "Gordons, plural, no more," he said his words getting lost in the loud noise ripping through the air, reverberating along the _quais_ , watching tendrils of smoke float on the Seine, debris and nothing else.

No bodies.

He grinned. "Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."

WWW

 _In the opera de Paris at the same time_

Sixth sense is a great thing to ring bells of alarm in the head.

Hearing the explosions, Jim froze in the middle of the _Grand Escalier_ a defused dynamite time bomb in each hand. A shiver ran down his spine. He paled in fear and let out, "Artie!"

Standing on the landing, Jacques felt his blood turn to ice in his veins with dread. " _Oh mon Dieu! Arthur_ …" And then he rushed downstairs, Jim in tow.

WWW

« Οἷος δὲ βροτολοιγὸς Ἄρης πόλεμον δὲ μέτεισι,

τῷ δὲ Φόϐος φίλος υἱὸς ἅμα κρατερὸς καὶ ἀταρϐὴς

ἕσπετο, ὅς τ' ἐφόϐησε ταλάφρονά περ πολεμιστήν »

« On voit ainsi Arès, fléau des hommes, marcher au combat,

Suivi d'Effroi, son fils intrépide et fort,

Qui met en fuite le guerrier le plus résistant. »

Homère, l'Iliade.

To be continued.


	2. Part Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE OPERA DE PARIS**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **PART TWO**

 _Paris,_

 _La Seine,_

 _le Pont Royal_

 _Beginning of the afternoon_

Feeling light-headed, his ears ringing and temporarily deaf, Arthur Gourdon sat with difficulty next to Artemus Gordon's unconscious body he had managed to maneuver onto a slippery staircase leading upward to the _Quai des Tuileries._

He too had passed out after the dynamite blasts hit him, but, fortunately for him he had regained consciousness just before drowning, his mouth and nose filled with the murky water of the Seine - finding his double floating on a half carbonized board, passed out, next to him.

Cloaked by the clouds of black smoke which had accompanied the explosions, his mouth wide, taking huge, gasping breaths, he had managed to swim behind the first arch of the _Pont Royal_ , pushing the US agent in front of him.

Fortunately for them Loveless and his men on the sailboat couldn't see them from their actual position. They were safe, he thought as he shivered with cold, completely drenched.

He pressed two fingers against Artemus's pulse point, again. The other man was still breathing, but he wasn't in good shape, which wasn't a surprise considering he had been hit by sharp pieces of wood seconds after the boat had exploded, he added in his mind.

He inspected his body through what was left of his clothes, turned into waterlogged rags, ripped up by the blasts, prodding his ribs and smoothing his fingers over already coloring bruises there.

No broken ribs there, he thought. Good! He had been very, very, lucky. The flying wooden shrapnel had hit him too, leaving clusters of bruises on his pale skin but none of them had cut or pierced him making him bleed, he reflected, his teeth chattering. He hadn't been burnt either. But Artemus had been seriously injured by them and by flames.

The other man was very pale, panting heavily and was covered with various cuts, shallow or deep. He had a large piece of broken wood embedded in his right shoulder and he was bleeding a lot. He winced at the large scorch mark on Artemus's left side, the flesh beneath raw and burned. He needed urgent medical help – but soon the police would be there.

Such explosions didn't go unnoticed. They would be transported to the closest hospital the _Hôpital de l'Hôtel-Dieu_ , soon, he mused.

He sagged suddenly on the moss-covered step he was sitting on, haziness creeping around the edges of his vision and he fought against the coming blackness.

The adrenaline had worn off and he was now shaking violently and he realized too that his whole body was sore and that, moving, just a little, was like torture.

Everything hurt. He felt like he had been used as a punching bag. He was probably littered with bruises, but that was all. Fortunately his bones were intact.

There was a throbbing pain in the left side of his head and he was dizzy, nauseous. The whole world was spinning. _"Aie! Aaaah! Ma tête…"_ ("Ouch ! my head!"). He pressed his hand against it, and winced. He brought his fingers back bloody. He was injured too.

Black spots took over his vision.

His eyes rolled back into his head as he slipped in to unconsciousness. He slumped over, collapsing on top of his American partner.

He didn't see Loveless's boat leave the cobbled _quai_ , and pass under the bridge, the sail inflated by the wind. And no one on board saw them.

WWW

 _Later_

Policemen were already there, grouped on the _Quai des Tuileries_ , when Jim and Jacques left the carriage before it had even stopped.

They immediately sprinted the rest of the distance to the group of men in uniforms and, roughly pushing them to the side, they discovered Artemus and Arthur laid on rain-wet cobbles, side by side, both unconscious. They froze, paled and thought, 'They're dead!' But the shallow rise and fall of Artemus's and Arthur's chests persuaded them otherwise.

Seeing two policemen suddenly grab Jim to immobilize him, Jacques pulled out his badge from the _Sûreté Générale_ from the inside pocket of his coat before two others could do that to him and brandished it above his head for everyone to see. " _Laissez-le! Il est avec moi!"_ ("Let him go! He's with me!").

Recognizing the silver badge of the _Sûreté Générale_ , a sergeant said, " _Obéissez! Et écartez-vous!"_ (Obey him! Let him pass!") and the policemen released Jim and moved back.

Everyone saluted with respect.

Feeling the tightness of panic in his chest, Jim breathed out, "Oh, my god, Artie!" and dropped to his knees to his injured partner's prone form.

Ignoring the trembling in his fingers, he took Artemus's limp hand in his.

Like Arthur's, Artemus's clothes had been reduced to ragged strips by the blasts of the explosions, but they were also burnt. His left side was badly burnt too, the charred edges being sticky with half-coagulated blood. He swallowed hard. "Oh, Artie…"

Artie's pale skin, what he could see of it, was covered with a mix of shallow and deep cuts and scrapes. Then he focused on the piece of wood protruding from his partner's right shoulder. It was settled in the middle of circle of purple and swelling skin and was caked in solidified blood.

Jacques threw himself down to kneel beside Arthur and pressed two fingers shaking with nerves and fear against his best friend's throat, pleased to find his pulse there.

It was there, yes, he thought, tears of relief and joy blurring his vision. He wiped them with the back of his hand and looking up at the _Sergent_ heasked, _"Avez-vous appelé une ambulance Sergent?"_ ("Did you call an ambulance Sergeant?").

Saluting again, the Sergeant nodded. " _Oui, Monsieur. Elle sera bientôt là. Dès que nous avons entendu l'explosion nous sommes venus ici, et nous les avons trouvé près de l'eau, au bas de l'escalier. Des témoins ont tout vus : deux hommes sur un bateau amarré au quai ont jeté des explosifs sur ces deux hommes là, qui étaient dans une barque. Ils ont été blessés, mais ont réussi à venir jusqu'ici, au pied de l'escalier. Le bateau est ensuite parti, mais on a une description de celui-ci et son nom, nous allons le retrouver ainsi que ceux qui ont fait ça._ _J'ai envoyé des hommes à sa recherche."_ ("Yes, sir. It will be here soon. As soon as we heard the explosion we came here, and we found them near the water at the bottom of the stairs. Witnesses saw everything: two men on a sailboat moored at the pier threw explosives at these two men, who were also in a boat. They were injured, but managed to get here, to the foot of the stairs. The sailboat then left, but we have a description of it and its name, we will find it and those who did this. I have sent men to search for it.").

Nodding, Jacques glanced at his passed-out best friend again. Except for the many, many bruises marring the sheet white of his skin, he seemed intact

But he knew that following an explosion Arthur's body could be damaged inside, his broken bones and the bleeding being invisible.

Jacques swallowed the lump in his throat, and his hands curling angrily into fists, he asked, _"Qui a fait ça?"_ ("Who did this?") Then he looked at Jim as he wiped some of the blood off of Artemus's face with his handkerchief rolled into a ball. "Loveless?"

Hearing Loveless's name, Jim replied, "Yes, it's him, _sans aucun doute_. ("Yes, it's him, without any doubt"). Then he paused as Artemus stirred and let out a moan trying to open his eyes. "And he escaped aboard that boat, _il fuir à bord bâteau_. "Come on, Artie, wake up!"

No response.

Looking at the sergeant again, his jaw tightened, Jacques ordered, _"Je veux l'équipage de ce voilier devant moi avant la fin de la journée!_ _Trouvez-les !"_ ("I want the crew of that sailboat in front of me before the end of the day! Find them!").

The other man nodded, _"Oui, Monsieur!"_ and then gave orders to his men. They ran toward their horses right after that.

Moaning again, Artie's eyes fluttered but they didn't open. Jim slapped at his companion's cheeks, gently. "Come on, Artie! wake up!" He repeated.

His mind fuzzy, Artemus started to blink lazily at Jim's face, his vision blurry. "S-stop," he mumbled. Then he hissed his right shoulder flared with pain. Then he cried out as he felt spikes of pain through his left side. He took a short intake of breath. "Explosions… Owwww… 'm injured…"

Nodding, Jim stopped Artie's hand before he could touch the piece of wood embedded in his shoulder. "No! Don't touch it! Or it's going to be more painful that it is. Don't move, buddy. You're going to be fine," He tried to reassure him. He gave his hand a quick squeeze. "An ambulance is on its way. Stay still."

Lowering his trembling hand to the ground with a hiss, Artemus watched the piece of wood going through his shoulder and rasped, "Souvenir… of the boat. Loveless… was there. Dynamite… thought I would die… survived, but how?" He heard a moan and turned his head to the left where Arthur, his French double was lying and regaining consciousness. "Ar… thur?" His sight had improved as he was talking to Jim and he met the other man's fogged eyes. "'Y' okay?"

Swallowing hard, Arthur forced down the rising nausea and groaned squinting in the sunlight coming through the dark gray clouds, his head thundering. _"Ooooh… ma pauvre tête!"_ ("Ooooh… my poor head!'). He let out a half-strangled breath and screwed up his face before the color drained from it. He tilted his head to the side, gagged hard and then vomited.

Pulling out his handkerchief from the pocket of his coat Jacques used it to wipe his best friend's mouth. _"Ce n'est rien, Arthur,"_ he said. ("It's nothing, Arthur.").

He cringed, "S'rry," he rasped.

Concerned Jim said, "Arthur probably has a bad concussion… _Arthur, mal à sa tête, très fort."_ ("His head hurts, a lot.").

Frowning in deep worry, Jacques immediately ran his fingers through Arthur's hair revealing, a split second later a large bump on the left side of his head and a little dried blood.

Fighting to keep his cloudy and sluggish eyes open, Arthur let out, in English, "My head's killing me…" His head had never hurt so much in all his life. He finally responded to Artemus. "Going to be sick again…" He added after that.

In a flash Jacques rolled Arthur on his side and the older man gagged and promptly vomited on the rain-wet cobblestones and within seconds he was dead to the world.

Eyes closing, Artemus slurred, "G'ing need 'ick leav'" then his slur became incoherent mumbles and sounds as he slowly blacked out.

The four horses pulling the ambulance appeared on the other side of the bridge. They hurried through the drizzling rain.

Suddenly a carriage stopped next to the group of policemen and two journalists rushed out of the vehicle, paper pads and pencils in their hands.

WWW

 _In the Grand Hôtel du Louvre_

 _Two hours later_

Miguelito Loveless was pouring a little of Hennessy XO in a _Cognac_ glass when there was a knock at the door. He said, "Come in!" The door opened two seconds later and Jack Bowman and Harry Peters entered the luxurious suite. Seeing that the shorter of his henchmen held a folded newspaper, he said, "Ah! You found a newspaper in reception, good!"

Harry headed toward his boss seated behind a golden coffee table. He handed him the newspaper he was holding and said, "There's an article about the explosions in _Le Coq Gaulois_ , Doctor. But I can't read French," he said.

Placing _Le Coq Gaulois_ on the table, Loveless read the headline: _Explosions près du Pont Royal. Deux hommes gravement blessés_. (Explosions near the Pont Royal. Two men seriously wounded). Then he read the article below printed on the front page.

Utterly upset, scowling, he crumpled the newspaper and frowned. "They're not dead!" He looked up at his minion who was puzzled and he elaborated, "The two Gordons! Or I should say Mr. Gordon and Mr. Gourdon, from the _Sûreté Générale_ … The two men on board that boat, on the Seine! They're not dead! They survived the explosions!"

Bowman was very surprised. "How is it possible?"

Loveless stood and moved toward the French windows opening on the _Rue de Rivoli_ , in front of the _Palais du Louvre._

He got lost in his thoughts for one minute then said, "Go to the catacombs. Find a place right under the Opéra and install four rings on the wall there. Then lock a pair of manacles to each ring. I will keep the two Gordons, I mean Mr. Gordon and Mr. Gourdon, prisoner there. For them to be in the front row when everything explodes, everything will collapse. Mr. Peters here will help you. It's easy to find a map of the catacombs. They sell maps to the tourists in the place _D'Enfer_ where the main entrance is located." He smiled. _"D'Enfer_ , I like that name. It means 'from hell'."

Bowman nodded. "And after that, Doctor?"

Looking up again at his minion, Loveless added, "You will kidnap _messieurs_ Gordon and Gourdon at the _Hôpital de l'Hôtel-Dieu_ where they were transported. You will help Voltaire to leave the hospital too. Then you will bring them to the catacombs and will use the shackles to restrain them."

Bowman nodded. "Okay Doctor Loveless."

Loveless nodded. "I have to go too. I need to see if the faux road workers working for me have done their job correctly."

WWW

 _Hôpital de l'Hôtel-Dieu,_

 _Much later_

 _Arthur's private room_

Grimacing, Arthur grunted as the white room spun in circles around him. _"_ I'm going to be sick", he said before pressing his hand on his mouth.

He went green, hiccupped, his breath coming quicker and bile rose in his throat.

In a flash Jacques placed a small bucket beneath his partner's chin and watched Arthur vomit what was left in his stomach.

Sagging against his pillow, feeling as weak as a newborn kitten, Arthur rasped, "Thanks… " Then he closed his eyes.

Feeling something wrapped around his chin, he touched a fabric band and then lifted his fingers to the left side of his head feeling a piece of gauze there held by a strap of cloth. He winced.

Seeing this, Jacques explained, " _Le médecin a mis un peu d'onguent anti-inflammatoire à base d'arnica sur ta bosse. Ça va prendre du temps pour réduire le gonflement et il a dû te faire six points de sutures aussi car tu as une coupure par-dessus._ " ("The doctor put some Arnica-based anti-inflammatory ointment on your bump. It's going to take some time to reduce the swelling and he had to give you six stitches also because you have a cut on top of it.). Placing the smelly bucket to the floor, he added, _"Tu as une grosse bosse sur le côté gauche du crâne liée à un traumatisme crânien mineur a dit le docteur, mais tu vas t'en remettre._ _Ta tête est épaisse, dure, solide."_ ("You have a large bump on the left side of your skull linked to a minor head trauma, the doctor said, but you will recover. Your head is thick, hard, solid."). _"Le docteur a aussi bandé ta poitrine à cause de ta côte cassée. Mais il n'a pas trop serré pour que tu puisses respirer presque normalement."_ ("The doctor has also bandaged your chest because of your broken rib. But it's not too tight so that you can breathe almost normally.").

Re-opening his eyes, fogged with pain and confusion, Arthur focused on Jacques's face and asked, "Where are we? Can't look around me… it makes me seasick."

Furrowing his brow, Jacques said, _"Parle Français, s'il te plait, Arthur. Je ne comprends pas l'Anglais."_ ("Speak French, please, Arthur, I don't understand English."). Then he sat on the edge of the small bed, and Arthur being as white as the sheets he frowned in concern. He took his best friend's hand in his. _"Tu es dans une chambre de l'Hôpital de l'Hôtel Dieu. Tu vas rester là jusqu'à ce que tu ailles mieux."_ ("You are in a room at the _Hôpital de l'Hôtel Dieu._ You'll stay here until you're better.").

Pulling the blanket up to his shoulders, shivering in weakness, Arthur said, "I was probably hit by a piece of the boat after it exploded…"

A frown crossing his face again, Jacques said, _"Je ne comprends toujours pas l'Anglais tu sais…"_ He repeated. ("I still don't understand English you know.").

Puzzled, frowning too Arthur replied, "I know… I understand the French language, But I can't speak the French language anymore." He furrowed his brow in concentration. "Let me try again. J-j… J-j-j… I… I… no, I can't." He added, his face scrunched up with pain _. 'Que m'arrive t-il?'_ (What is happening to me?) he thought, now distressed. "But I can still think in French and understand French…" He took a deep breath to calm himself then he rubbed his aching temples as if it could make his maternal language come back.

But it didn't work.

Deeply concerned, Jacques said, _"Il semblerait que tu ne puisses plus parler Français…"_ (It would seem that you can't speak French anymore…").

Devastated, Arthur nodded. "I can't believe it. It's horrible!"

Pressing Arthur's shoulder in a comforting way, Jacques said, _"Je suis sûr que c'est lié à ton traumatisme crânien. Tu as pris un coup sérieux sur ta tête, Arthur, et ça t'a embrouillé le cerveau! C'est sûrement temporaire. Une fois que tu iras mieux, tu pourras à nouveau parler français, j'en suis sûr."_ ("I'm sure it is related with your head trauma. You took a serious hit on your head, Arthur, and it jumbled your brain! It is surely temporary. Once you get better, you'll be able to speak French again, I'm sure.").

The room still spinning, the older man said, "Let's hope you're right." Then realizing that Jacques and he were alone in the room, he asked, "Where are James and Artemus?"

Standing, Jacques responded, "James et Artemus ? _Ils sont dans la chambre d'à côté. Artemus a été sérieusement blessé mais il n'est plus en danger. Comme toi il est entre de bonnes mains. Les meilleurs médecins de Paris s'occupent de vous deux."_ ("James and Artemus ? They are in the room next door. Artemus was seriously injured but he's not in danger anymore. Like you he is in good hands. The best doctors in Paris are taking care of the two of you.").

Mussing up his already disheveled hair with his fingers, Arthur smiled and let out a long sigh of relief. "Thank God!"

Moving away from his partner's bedside, Jacques said _, "Je dois partir à présent, Artie. L'inauguration de l'Opéra est prévue dans deux heures. James va aller chercher le Sénateur à l'Ambassade Américaine pendant que je serai à l'opéra pour vérifier le dispositif de sécurité mis en place. Nous aurons sûrement à nouveau à faire avec Loveless et ses hommes, car ils essaieront à nouveau de tuer Harry Graham. J'ai envoyé des policiers à leur recherche, mais ils ont visiblement échoué."_ ("I have to go now, Artie. The inauguration of the Opéra is scheduled in two hours. James is going to pick up the Senator at the American Embassy while I am at the opera checking the security arrangements are in place. We will surely have to deal with Loveless and his men again, because they will try to kill Harry Graham again. I sent policemen to arrest them, but they obviously failed.").

Frowning in worry, Arthur said, "Loveless is a very dangerous man. I'm coming with you. I just have lots of bruises and a massive headache, that's nothing."

He moved himself out of the bed, wincing all the way. Every muscle in his bruised body protested any movement as pain ripped through him.

He stood on soaked-cotton-like legs and swayed for a moment his hand to his aching side. "I'm fine," he lied. Suddenly black spots invaded his double vision.

He felt dizzy, nauseous.

Eyebrows furrowed, Jacques grabbed his best friend's arm and said, " _Qu'est-ce que tu es en train de faire? Tu n'es pas en état de bouger, encore moins de m'accompagner._ _Tu restes ici!"_ ("What are you trying to do? You're not in any shape to move, let alone to accompany me. You stay here!"). He pointed at all the newspapers folded and piled on the bedside table. _"Je t'ai apporté des journaux."_ ("I brought you newspapers.").

Parting from Jacques, Arthur said, "I am always at your side during a mission, and I will not stay here, in this bed reading newspapers while waiting for you. You need me…" He stopped as the world felt tilted, and it spun before his eyes. He swallowed a surge of bile burning his throat on its way back and clenched his teeth together. "I can… I can go with you…"

He promptly twisted to the side and vomited onto the bed.

WWW

 _In Artemus's private room_

Holding Artemus's hand in his, Jim was sitting on a chair beside his partner, lying on a small bed, still unconscious.

His eyes closed, he was dozing.

A little color had returned to Artie's stubbled cheeks and his brow was no longer furrowed with pain. His body was covered with bandages, mummy-like and his right arm was resting in a sling.

Hearing a moan, Jim woke up and watched his best friend begin to stir slightly. Then Artemus blinked several times. "J'm?" He rasped out.

He opened his eyes slowly and made a small noise of pain as he tried to sit up. He grunted. He had pain everywhere.

In a flash, Jim sat bolt-upright and then pressed on his partner's chest, forcing him to lie back down. "No! Don't move Artie! It's okay, it's okay. You're safe. You're in a hospital room and you're going to be fine."

Glancing at his right shoulder, Artie croaked, "It's gone…" noticing that the piece of wood piercing his flesh had been removed.

Closing his fingers around the glass of water sitting on the bedside table, Jim said, "Yes, the doctor removed it and cleaned your injury. It required stitches through the skin and muscles. Then he took care of the burn on your left side, covering it with a special healing ointment for burns. Then he took care of your scrapes and cuts and wrapped you in two miles of bandages. You look like a mummy…"

Nodding Artie closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. Then his lips pressed together in a grimace. He looked at Jim again and said, "A mummy who would like to have painkillers…"

Jim brought the glass to his partner's lips. "Small sips. Coughing would hurt you - more."

Giving Jim an amused smile, Artie said, "Yes, mother." He took a series of small sips, then pushed the half-empty glass away. "Thanks, Jim."

Placing the glass back on the bedside table Jim, his face grave said, "You are welcome." He paused and frowning, he added, "When I heard the explosions, I immediately knew you were in mortal danger… and I headed toward that bridge as quickly as possible." He paused and sighed heavily. "When I saw you, inert, injured, laid on the cobbles, I thought I'd lost you."

Relaxing in his bed, Artie nodded. "You can't get rid of me that easily." He said, a little laugh escaping his lips. He rubbed his eyes and added, "When I saw those sticks of dynamite flying toward us, I thought, 'we're gonna die!'…" His thoughts turned back to everything that had happened on the Seine, and… He froze as his face turned white. He propped himself on his elbows. "Arthur! Oh God! Is he… is he dead?"

Placing a soothing hand on Artie's (good) shoulder, Jim said, "No! He's alive. He has a concussion and he's going to be okay."

Immensely relieved, Artie smiled broadly. "Thank God!" Then he sank back into the bed, wincing. "Loveless tried to kill us, Jim. It's a miracle we're still alive." He yawned. "We need to stop him before he manages to kill everyone during the inauguration of the _Opéra de Paris_ tonight." He frowned. "Is it still January 5th?"

Jim nodded. "Yes. The inauguration will start in a couple of hours. I have to go to the US Embassy to escort the Senator there. But you're not going to accompany me. You're in no fit state to. I will go there alone, with Jacques as partner."

Gritting his teeth, Artie sat on the bed, upset. He shook his head. "I'm _your_ partner, not Jacques. I'm fine. I can accompany you, in fact, I _will_ accompany you."

Knowing that it was futile and a waste of time to convince his stubborn partner not to do what he decided to do, he opted for the 'let Artie realize for himself that he can't leave his bed' technique and said, "You're right, you're my partner. Let's go Artie! I bought a new set of clothes for you in a fashion boutique while you were sleeping." He pointed at them, folded on the back of a chair.

Artie glanced at them and spotted a folded newspaper sitting on the seat too. "And you bought me a newspaper! I hope it's ' _Le Parisien '_ , it's my favorite. I will read it later."

Keeping his jaw tightened to keep groans and grunts of pain at bay, Artemus slowly moved himself onto the edge of the bed.

He stood on shaky legs… and lurched forward, pain sparking all over. He cried out and the edges of his vision blackened. He would have ended up on his nose if Jim hadn't been there, catching him in his arms. He suppressed a curse.

Maneuvering Artemus back in his bed, Jim said, "So… Are you in shape to go with me?" And received a black look in response. "You're going to stay here. Don't worry, Jacques and I will be careful." Then he headed toward the door. "See you later, Artie."

Once in the corridor, he headed toward the next door. He knocked and entered the room, finding Arthur sitting on a chair, leaning limply against a worried Jacques, holding his shoulders. An orderly was changing the blankets and sheets.

There was the foul scent of vomit in the air.

WWW

 _Later,_

 _In Arthur's room_

Leaning heavily against the wall, his knees wobbly, with one shaking hand and his vision blurred, Arthur was doing his best to pee in the chamber pot and not on the floor next to it with when he heard someone knock at the door.

He sighed. "I'm busy! Come back later!" he said, aloud.

But a few seconds later he saw a vague silhouette dressed in white enter the room nonetheless and he groaned, upset, doing his best to hurry. "Are you deaf? I told you to come back later. I'm busy." Then he realized he was speaking English, and the orderly didn't understand a single word of English. And he couldn't speak French anymore! He let out a groan of frustration and added, "Alright. If you have brought me food, you can take it back to the kitchen. I'm not hungry… But if you could bring me a pot of coffee, it would be great!" He had finished peeing and was ready to pull up his pajama pants when he felt something being pressed on his face.

He instantly recognized the sweet smell: chloroform.

He had used the anesthetic numerous times on enemies of the State to stop their plots against first Napoléon III and now against the President of the Republic Mac Mahon, in order to capture them before bringing them to the headquarters _of la Sûreté Générale_ , _situés à la Préfecture de Police de Paris_ , (of the _Sûreté Générale_ , located at the Paris Police Prefecture), he thought, within seconds.

Someone pushed him against the wall, hard, face first, clamping the sleeping drug-soaked cloth tight against his mouth and nose, twisting his arm behind his back in a restraining hold, trapping the other one between his chest and the wall.

Arthur tried his best to keep himself from breathing after that and desperately tried to free himself from his attacker's strong grasp but couldn't move _un millimètre_. He couldn't hold his breath forever and had to breathe at some point.

His head started to spin and his mind to cloud over. He felt his whole body go numb and he passed out from the potent drug a few seconds later, after a couple of breathes.

He went slack.

Loveless's minion lowered the unconscious _agent de la Sûreté Générale_ to the floor and snapped his fingers twice. "Harry!"

Harry Bowman waiting in the corridor entered the room a split second later, in his turn, pushing a big rolling cart in front of him on which were placed big, full, laundry sacks.

Opening one, Harry said, "Let's put him inside, Jack!" and he started to remove all the dirty sheets that were piled inside the large sack.

WWW

 _Later,_

 _In Artemus's room_

Leaning against the headboard, Artemus holding _Le Parisien_ with his free hand, reading the entertainment page looked up when there was a knock at the door.

He said, "Come in!" while focusing on the article presenting the brand new _Opéra de Paris_ and who would be there for the inauguration: the President of the Republic Mac Mahon, the Mayor of Amsterdam, the Royal Family of Spain, the Lord Mayor of London, and nearly two thousand guests from Europe and the Chairman of Foreign Relations of the Senate, Senator Harry Graham.

He heard his stomach growl.

It was dinner time, so an orderly was bringing him food.

But as he was in France, _le pays de la gastronomie_ , hospital food had to be very good, he thought, remembering the bad, bad food he had eaten the last time he was stuck for a week in one of the beds of the Washington Military Hospital. "Gaah!" he said.

He was lowering the newspaper to his lap when a bulky man suddenly shoved a white cloth over his nose and mouth.

He blinked at him in surprise and immediately recognized the scent of the chloroform. He reacted a couple of seconds later, blocking his breathing.

He tried then to move back on the bed while pushing the man's hand holding the cloth clamped firmly over his nose and mouth, away from his face.

But the large, muscular man, closed his other hand around Artie's neck in a bruising grasp, pinning the other man against the headboard.

It wasn't an orderly, but one of Loveless's men disguised as one, Artemus thought in a flash, struggling to stay awake.

His lungs aching for air he breathed into the chloroformed rag inhaling the drug and after about 20 seconds, he felt all of his muscles going numb.

He closed his eyes and lay against the headboard, completely unconscious.

Remembering his boss's words: 'Gordon is an excellent actor, make sure he's unconscious when you kidnap him', Jack waited for several more seconds, holding the powerful-sedative-soaked cloth in place to ensure the chloroform had taken effect before pulling it away and tucking it back into his white jacket pocket beside the bottle of the drug.

Harry entered the room in his turn, pushing the rolling cart in front of him, with, on the top, a sack containing the unconscious form of Arthur lying in a laundry bag.

Moving back, Jack Peters said, "Let's take care of him, then we'll head to Voltaire's room. Dr. Loveless wants him back at his side."

He maneuvered the unconscious special agent to the edge of the bed before hoisting him up and over one broad shoulder.

WWW

 _Much later,_

 _In the Catacombes de Paris_

Arthur woke up, his head swimming and his temples throbbing with pain. His mouth was dry and he felt a bit dizzy following his concussion.

But he was no longer under the effects of the chloroform, he noticed.

Shivering with cold he looked around at his surroundings discovering with surprise that the wall in front of him was made with thousands of aligned skulls and bones.

He spotted a few of them which were scattered to the sandy ground… and the he saw the holes where they had been placed a long time ago.

He knew immediately where he was: somewhere in the underground quarries of Paris in which were stored the bones of millions of people. They had been placed there when it was decided to empty the Parisian cemeteries from 1786, as well as the remains contained in the churches, to form immense ossuaries. The place was called the _catacombes_.

Looking down Arthur noticed that his wrists were caught in manacles each locked up to a metallic ring embedded in a solid, stony wall.

There were two other pairs of manacles hanging there, along the wall, further on the right, but he bet they wouldn't stay empty for long. They were brand new and had been placed there recently, as the fresh mortar indicated. But unfortunately for him it had solidified rapidly. He pulled on the rings with all his might but they didn't bulge. Too bad. So there was another 'guest coming, he thought. 'Who?' he asked himself. 'Artemus? Jim? Jacques? Was Loveless behind this? Or another foe? Jacques and he had many mortal enemies.

Arthur sighed. He would know the answer at some stage. But for now he was alone and couldn't hear anything except his own shivering breathing.

He surveyed his 'cell'. The high-ceilinged room was carved into the limestone and it was dimly lit, only illuminated by a gasoline lamp sitting on a small table in a corner. There was no door, just an opening to the right plunged in pitch darkness.

He cleared his throat. "Hello? Is someone there?" he called out.

He received no answer.

He shivered again with cold as his white hospital pajamas weren't particularly warm.

His voice echoed back, in the vast, vaulted room filled or almost by hundreds of 'artistically arranged' selected parts of skeletons.

He spotted a skeleton head, the jaw missing, lying on the ground under the 'empty' shackles and wondered how it had ended up there.

He suddenly heard steps approaching. A silhouette appeared coming out from the darkness a few seconds later. It was a small man, with graying hair and a large smile, holding a lantern.

He recognized him: Loveless.

Loveless was followed by two bulky men. The shortest held a lantern too and the tallest had Artemus folded over his broad shoulder.

The US agent was inert, limp.

Heart in his throat, Arthur turned pale at this. "Is Artemus… dead?" He gasped out.

Loveless shook his head. "No, he's not. Not yet. He's still unconscious. I needed his presence on the surface, in the light of day, for a photograph, that's why he wasn't by your side when you woke up, _Monsieur_ Gourdon." He moved closer and added, "Yes, I know who you are and who your partner Jacques Cardinal is too." He smiled. "The resemblance with Mr. Gordon here is remarkable, stunning! The two of you could be twins… and the first time I saw you, in that boat, I thought I was seeing double." He lowered the lantern he was holding to the ground and looking up at his giant minion, he ordered, "Mr. Bowman, I think Mr. Gourdon needs company. He's all alone chained to that wall…"

It took a few seconds for Harry Bowman and Jack Peters to close the manacles around Artemus's wrists, removing the Secret Agent's sling in the process and they watched him drop to the sandy ground. Even unconscious Artemus let out a whimper of pain as his injury hurt.

Frowning in concern Arthur glanced at Artie who sitting on the floor, leaning limply forward, his chin resting on his chest, passed out, and asked, "What do you want to do to us, Mr. Loveless?"

Miguelito Loveless pursed his lips. " _Doctor_ Loveless. I have multiple PhDs." He paused then…" I should kill you!" He suddenly exploded. "Because thanks to your intervention at the opera house you stopped my plan to kill Senator Graham and the other guests at the inauguration as a bonus for my French Royalists friends. And you injured Voltaire!" He kicked angrily at the lantern sitting on the ground next to him sending it flying away into a corner of the room.

The light dimmed.

Then the short-tempered man abruptly calmed down, smiled and said in French, " _Mais ce n'est que partie remise, Monsieur_." He continued in English: "I have a plan B. And I will be paid a lot of money – in gold bars – when the Senator is dead. You see, I need money to pursue my scientific experiments - and I always fulfill my lucrative contracts. He's going to die, soon." He paused and continued, "It will be a little less spectacular than expected, as my first intention was to destroy the _Opéra de Paris_ , but it will be fantastic, and it will be remembered as the greatest disaster that has struck Paris for a long time. The work will be done… As for your fate, _Monsieur_ Gourdon, you will die, of course, like Mister Gordon."

Not impressed, Arthur asked, "May I know how?"

Loveless lifted his eyes to the vaulted, moist and shiny ceiling, in places even beaded with drops of water. "Just above us is the double ramp that leads to the Emperor's pavilion. When the very powerful bombs hidden in the ground by false road workers working for me explode as guests pass, the ground will be torn apart and everything and everyone will fall down ... here. You will be killed, too." He rubbed his hands in glee. "This will go down in history!"

Not sharing Loveless's enthusiasm, Arthur was horrified. "The crowd will be there, to see all these personalities, and the ground will not open under them only, but a giant hole will form, will grow more and more because the ground is thin between the street and the top of the catacombs... " He paused, fists clenched and jaw rigid and he added, "A whole part of Paris could be engulfed, and thousands of people die!"

Loveless nodded and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "I know that. I don't care about consequences. Only the result is important to me. but I'm not going to see the whole disaster, because I will have left long before the explosions start."

Frowning, Arthur glared at the little man. "You're a monster!" Hearing Artie moan, he looked at him, then back at Loveless.

Loveless chuckled. "I've been called worse than that."

His jaw clenched Arthur said, "Jacques and James will stop this. They will stop you and your men too. You will end up behind bars!"

Loveless shook his head. "No, they won't. Mr. James West will be here soon and, as for your partner, he should be dead, soon. He's nothing to me, but James West is an exceptional man, a worthy adversary, and I want to kill him, personally – I mean, Voltaire will do it for me. I sent someone to the surface to give him a photograph of his precious best friend, Mr. Gordon, with a message written on its back: 'Come alone to the catacombs, the entrance is in the Trinity Church and tell no-one where you are going and what for, or Mr. Gordon is dead.' And I signed it." He paused, looking at Artemus, slowly emerging from his drugged haze. "He'll come, believe me. The Trinity church is located ten minutes walk from here. He should be here soon," he repeated.

Opening his bloodshot eyes, his vision blurred, Artemus let out a second moan and struggled to haul himself upward to his feet, on wobbly legs.

His vision progressively de-fogging, he saw Loveless moving closer to him. "Ooh… it's you again…" He gritted out through clenched teeth.

The pain increasing in his injured shoulder made him grimace and cry out right after as the burn at his side was pulsating. He whimpered.

Loveless smiled, pleased to see Artemus's pain-ridden face. "Hurts?"

His brow feverish, Artie said, "I won't answer that, because it would please you," and earned a black look from the little man. He ignored it, increasing his captor's displeasure and looked at his throbbing shoulder. He saw that the white fabric of his pajama jacket was reddened with blood at the level of his right shoulder. The stitches had broken and he was bleeding, again, he thought. Then he noticed that he was manacled to the wall and pulled on them testing their solidity.

In a good mood again, Loveless chuckled. "You won't be able to free yourself… It's always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Gordon."

Looking down at the diminutive man, Artie said, "The last time we met was in that toy store, after you tried to kill Governor Lewis and failed."

Miguelito Loveless scowled remembering the scene. Yes, he had failed and had had to escape with Voltaire in his carriage. "But I won't fail this time."

Gritting his teeth, Artemus rasped out, "We stopped Voltaire at the Opera house. You failed."

Loveless nodded. "It was a _contretemps_ , not a failure, Mr. Gordon. I have a plan B, and it's better than the original plan. And Voltaire is free."

Artemus turned his head toward Arthur, chained to the wall beside him, he realized. " _Tu vas bien?_ ("You are alright?").

The Frenchman nodded, "I'm alright, you?"

Knitting his eyebrows, Artie responded, "I've been better, but I'm going to be okay."

Arthur nodded. "I'm sorry not to respond to you in French, but I can't speak French anymore since I was hit on my head. But I do understand it."

Lifting an eyebrow in surprise, Artie said, "It's fascinating! Are you familiar with the works of the neurosurgeons Paul Broca and Carl Wernicke on the centers of language in the brain?" Seeing Arthur shooting him a black look he added, "I'm sorry. I let my scientific side take over." Then he glanced around him and immediately knew where he was, the catacombs. He had visited them once.

Releasing a sigh, Arthur replied, "You're forgiven, Artemus, as I have a lot of interest in science too. Another point of commonality."

Loveless cleared his throat. "All this is fascinating, but I have to interrupt your little chat," he said. Offering the two men his best crocodile smile he added, "I hope Mr. West will be here soon, I have some deadly explosions to attend to. I don't want to miss them."

Furrowing his brow in puzzlement, the US agent looked at the little man and asked, "What explosions? And what about Jim?"

Suddenly James West appeared in the catacomb room coming out from the darkness. He was followed by a limping Voltaire towering over him and holding a lantern.

Loveless smiled. "Speaking of Mr. West..."

The giant dressed in black said, "He was alone, and I closed the door behind him. No one followed us into the catacombs, Doctor."

Loveless nodded and watched his bodyguard and manservant place the lantern beside the others on the small table. "So he didn't tell anyone. I was sure of it."

Looking at the younger US agent, very worried, Arthur asked, "How is Jacques?"

Glancing back at the 'French Artie', Jim smiled reassuringly and replied, "The last time I saw him, he was in the middle of the _Place de l'Opéra_. He had just shot and injured three men who wanted to stab him. He's okay." He stared at Loveless. "I bet he'll be able to make those men talk by offering to let them escape the guillotine if they tell everything they know, and he will find out what you have prepared, Dr. Loveless. Your plan is going to fail, again. Like your plan with Governor Lewis."

Loveless scowled. He was very upset, no he was furious.

His men had failed to kill Jacques Cardinal and they would tell everything to him to avoid death. They would tell him where the bombs were hidden.

Moving closer to Loveless, Jim added, "Before coming here, I sent a telegram to the US Embassy. US soldiers are now protecting the Senator. You won't be able to kill him. He's well-protected."

Loveless sent Jim a black look. His plan had failed. The French Royalists wouldn't pay him a fortune. His scientific experiments would be stopped until he found money to continue them. He had no other choice but to leave Paris to go back to the United States.

But he wasn't finished with the pesky agents, he thought and smiled. "But I will have the pleasure to kill you, gentlemen." He looked up at Voltaire and nodded. A split second later his manservant and bodyguard pulled out the gun he kept in the inner pocket of his coat. "I would have preferred a more 'artistic' way to kill you, but I don't have a choice. Farewell, gentlemen."

Poking Jim's back with the muzzle of his revolver, Voltaire grinned. "Let's start with you," he said and cocked the hammer back.

Lowering his eyes to the ground, Jim saw Artie's bare right foot slowly move toward a skull lying there next to the stone wall.

He knew what he was going to do with it and stood ready to fight, balling up his fists.

His eyes met Artie's and the older man gave a slight nod. Artemus lifted the skull with the top of his foot, sent it in the air just a little then he kicked it – aiming at Voltaire.

He hit his target two seconds later: Voltaire's head. "I'm sorry," he said to the skull which dropped to the floor and broke.

Using that distraction, Jim whirled around and grabbed Voltaire's gun, pulling it from his big hand, then he pushed the giant backward, with all he had.

Harry Bowman and Jack Peters both jumped on the Secret Service agent and they all ended up rolling to the ground exchanging blows to the face and body.

Dr. Loveless seized this opportunity to leave the room with Voltaire, in a hurry. "Let's get out of here! Go! Go!" the little man said, as Voltaire took him in his arms.

Unable to do anything, meaning being able to stop Loveless and Voltaire before they disappeared and helping Jim to get rid of the two hulking men, Arthur groaned in frustration. He glanced at Artemus and was surprised to see him calm and smiling.

Noticing his French double's surprise, Artie said, " _La partie est finie, mais le jeu n'est pas terminé_. We'll meet Loveless and Voltaire again and Jim doesn't need help. He's faced men much larger than those thugs. He's gonna knock them out within seconds."

Covered with sand, Jim stood. His hard fist collided with the side of Harry Bowman's head, dazing him long enough for him to throw a punch, a strong and wild swing. The henchman stumbled backwards with blood pouring from his nose until he crashed into the wall made of skulls and bones.

Not wasting time, Jim pivoted on his feet and dropped on one knee dodging Jack Peters's massive fist and then threw a series of fast jabs, hard, into the other man's stomach.

His face red with anger and blood, Harry gave a ragged shout and charged forward heading toward Jim who was busy punching Jack like he was a punching sack.

Sending sand flying in the minion's direction with his foot to slow down Loveless's man, Artie let out, "Jim! Behind you!" and he gasped when the other man changed direction… coming straight at him, his eyes wild and taking the dagger hidden behind his back.

Eyes cold and dangerous, Bowman rasped in full furious bull mode, "You're going to die! But first I'm going to slice your ears off, and then I will break your hands one bone at a time." He growled.

Doing his best not to panic Artie paled and stiffened. "Oh dear God!" He whispered eyes wide, blood draining from his face and braced himself against the wall.

He let Harry approach him as his breath quickened, and grabbing the rings embedded in the wall for support, like a fair acrobat he lifted himself off the ground. Throwing his legs forward, he gave the other man a hard, well-placed kick in his private parts.

Bowman let out a strangled cry of pain, stumbling backwards from the hit, again. Meanwhile Jim was busy punching Jack's nose.

Peters stumbled away, clutching at his now bleeding nose and Harrry charged Artemus again, his face ruddy with fury, a string of curses flying from his mouth.

Before Artemus could do anything, Bowman backhanded him hard across the face, then gave him a punch to his stomach and the US agent sagged against his restraints, blood trickling from his nose and split lips, passed out cold.

Jim kneed Jack in the gut, causing Loveless's henchman to collapse clutching his stomach, dry heaving. Then he hit him with a powerful hook to his chin.

Harry was ready to punch Artie again, when Jim who had knocked out Jack, grabbed the other man's arm and twisted it so that it was behind the thug's back, immobilizing him.

Bowman's dagger fell to the ground.

But Harry didn't remain immobilized. He twisted his bulky body and faced Jim. Jim ducked the powerful punch intended for his face and sent his opponent an uppercut to the jaw, making the henchman groan in pain and stagger to the side, lightheaded.

Jim gave Harry a series of swings until he hit the wall beside Arthur and grabbing the back of the minion's head he smashed it against his.

But he wasn't finished. Harry had hurt Artie and he would pay for that, dearly. He delivered yet another good punch to Bowman's jaw and the other man slumped to the sandy ground, unconscious.

Rubbing his bruised, sore knuckles, Jim moved toward Artie, still passed out and unlocked the manacles before lowering him to the ground, gently. He carefully laid his partner on his back. "It's over. I've got you, buddy" he said. Crouched beside the older man he gently tapped Artemus's bloodied face. "Come on Artie, wake up!" and seeing that his best friend was still unresponsive, he stood and rapidly un-handcuffed Arthur who rubbed his aching wrists.

The Frenchman smiled gratefully. "Thank you! You saved my life!"

Jim smiled and gave Arthur's shoulder a friendly pat. "You're welcome." Then, his brow creased in concern, Jim knelt beside Artie again and again tried to wake him, shaking his arm this time. "Time to wake up Artemus, come on! Open your eyes," he said with a pleading voice, fingers in Artie's disheveled hair and Artemus slowly regained consciousness. "Artie?"

His face twisted into a pained expression Artemus croaked out, "'M here…" Then he threw up onto the floor next to him, fortunately not on Jim's lap. Then he slumped on his back and pressed his left hand on his aching stomach. "Sorry… y'okay J'm?" He rasped out. Then he winced feeling his blood soaking his jacket. "Not feeling s' good. D'zy."

Moving to his knees on the other side of Artemus, Arthur patted his US doppelgangers' hand gently, smiled and said, "You and I need to go back to the hospital."

Suddenly there was the sound of pounding of feet running outside and Jim, Artie and Arthur saw a group of armed policemen rush into the vaulted room. Six of them were holding a folding stretcher each and they were led by a visibly concerned Jacques Cardinal.

He immediately spotted the two passed out hulking men lying on the ground, thought, _'Ennemis à terre, plus de menace'_ ('Enemies down, no threat anymore') then he headed toward Arthur and pulled him into a bear hug; a smile of relief on his face. _"Tu vas bien Arthur? J'étais très inquiet pour toi…"_ ("Are you alright Arthur? I was very worried about you.").

Smiling too, the older French agent wrapped an arm around Jacques's waist pressed his forehead against his best friend's, who he loved like he was his younger brother and closed his eyes. He replied, "I was very worried about you too."

Looking at Jacques parting from Arthur, Jim asked, "How did you find us?"

Casting a quick concerned glance at the prone figure of Artemus, blinking hard to stay conscious, Jacques asked first, _"Comment vas-tu Artemus?"_ ("How are you doing Artemus?").

Looking up at the 'French Jim' with glassy eyes, Artie croaked out, "I'd like to go back to the hospital… _Je voudrais retourner à l'hôpital."_

Snapping his fingers, Jacques said, " _Placez ces deux hommes sur une civière!"_ ("Place those two men on a stretcher!). Then he responded, " _Dès que j'ai vu ce garçon vous remettre un message, j'ai deviné qu'il venait de Loveless, qui voulait sans doute vous voir et J'ai demandé à des gamins des rues de vous suivre pour un peu d'argent, et de revenir plus tard me dire où vous étiez._ _Je suis ensuite venu jusqu'ici avec des policiers et des civières au cas où il y aurait des personnes blessées"_ ("As soon as I saw that boy giving you a message, I guessed it came from Loveless, who probably wanted to see you and I asked some street kids to follow you in return for some money, and come back later to tell me where you were. I then came here with policemen and stretchers in case there were wounded people.").

He glanced at Artemus and Arthur now laid on a stretcher and added, _"J'ignorais par contre qu'il avait kidnappé nos partenaires respectifs et les avait amené ici… Tout est bien qui fini bien, comme on dit en France."_ ("But I did not know that he had kidnapped our respective partners and had brought them here. All is well that ends well, as we say in France."). Then he grinned. _"Partons d'ici!"_ ("Let's get out of here!").

Raising his hand, Artie asked, "Could I have a lovely nurse taking care of me? The last orderly drugged me and kidnapped me." Then he licked at the blood on his lip. It stung. He winced.

Raising his hand too, Arthur said, "Me too, and same thing."

Smiling Jacques laced his fingers through Arthur's. _"Tout ira bien à present."_ ("Everything is going to be fine now.").

Feeling safe, the two older agents closed their eyes, dozing off. Jim removed his coat and wrapped it around Artie's frame. "Sleep buddy, sleep."

Imitating Jim, Jacques pulled his coat up to Arthur's shoulders. " _Cet homme est un aimant à problèmes, mais je l'aime quand même."_ ("This man is a problem magnet, but I love him anyway."). Then he chuckled with a playful smile.

WWW

 _On the evening, late at night_

 _Restaurant de la Coquille d'Or,_

 _Montparnasse_

Pouring a little of the deep yellow-orange-ish wine into Jim's crystal glass, his US look-alike being seated to his left around the table, Jacques said, " _En France tout se termine toujours autour d'un bon repas, les bonnes choses pour les célébrer, comme les mauvaises pour les oublier et passer à autre chose."_ ("In France everything always ends over a good meal, the good things to celebrate them, the bad to forget them and move on.").

Glancing around him at the famous Parisian restaurant with a sumptuous _néo-baroque_ decor dominated by red and gold, Artie said, "That should be an international law."

Jacques smiled too but he frowned when he noticed Arthur's scowl. _"Que se passe t-il Arthur? Tu n'es pas heureux? C'est parce que Loveless et Voltaire se sont échappés? Bah! Oublie les! Le plan de ce petit homme a échoué et celui des Royalistes aussi. L'opéra a été inauguré et tout le monde est resté en vie._ _Tout va bien."_ ("What's going on Arthur? Are you not happy? Is it because Loveless and Voltaire escaped? Bah! Forget them! The plan of this little man failed and that of the Royalists too. The opera was inaugurated and everyone stayed alive. Everything is fine.").

Running a pensive finger around his plate, containing the entrée he had chosen, _un vol-au-vent au poulet et aux champignons_ , Arthur said, "No, you're wrong. Everything is not fine. I can't speak French anymore. That's horrible!" Then he took a sip of _Château d'Yquem_. He couldn't help but moan in pleasure. The Sauternes was ranked _premier cru supérieur_ and was considered the best sweet wine to be had. He said, "You will say thank you again to Senator Graham for providing us this meal, and this absolutely wonderful wine."

Smiling, Artie replied, "I will, we saved his life and he's very grateful we did. A _ces vins_ , plural my friend. Other fine wines are coming. We haven't touched the _entrée_ yet." On that he cut a piece of _pâté en croute Richelieu_ and added, "I'm sorry about your problem, Arthur. But I'm sure it's temporary, _je suis sûr que c'est seulement temporaire."_

Pouring again a little of the _Sauternes_ 1870 into his best friend's glass, seated to his right, Jacques said, _"Artemus a raison, Arthur, c'est temporaire._ _Une fois que ta tête ne sera plus cabossée, tout rentrera dans l'ordre,_ _tu verras._ _Ce n'est qu'une question de temps."_ ("Artemus is right, Arthur, it's temporary. Once your head is no longer dented, everything will be back to normal. It's just a matter of time, you"ll see."). Then he stood to pour a little of the fabulous sweet wine into Artie's glass, the other man being seated across from him. He continued, " _Et c'est aussi et surtout ce que le médecin t'a dit._ _Et c'est le meilleur de Paris_!" ("And it's also and especially what the doctor told you. And he's the best in Paris!").

Closing his long violinist fingers around the curves of his glass, Artemus said, " _Merci, Jacques_ ," then he brought it to his nose, inhaling the aromas of the wine. "Mmm… exceptional!"

Smiling, Jacques poured a little of the _Château d'Yquem_ into his own glass, then he lifted it and all the others did the same.

He cleared his throat and said, " _A votre santé, et à la fin de cette mission, qui fut un succès!"_ ("To your health, and to the end of the mission, which was a success!").

Jim, Artemus and Arthur lifted their own glasses and clinked them.

Smiling, Artie said, "I'm going to drink to that _et à mes amis français!_ ("And to my French friends!"). Then he took a sip, savoring the sweet wine.

Everyone imitated him a split second later.

Seeing his French counterpart was still brooding, Artemus said, "If it will console you, if your problem can't be solved with time and healing, I offer you the possibility to become a US citizen and work in the Secret Service. I'm sure that Colonel Richmond – the head of the Secret Service – would be more than happy to have a man with your multiple talents among his agents. And President Grant would be very happy to 'grant' my request." Then he translated it in French, _"Si cela peut vous consoler, si votre problème ne peut pas être résolu avec le temps et la guérison, je vous offre la possibilité de devenir un citoyen américain et de travailler pour les Services Secrets. Je suis sûr que le colonel Richmond - le chef des Services Secrets - serait plus qu'heureux d'avoir un homme possédant vos multiples talents parmi ses agents. Et le président Grant serait très heureux de m'accorder ma demande."_

Freezing in stupefaction, Arthur said, "Really? You would do that for me? And your Commanding officer and President would accept?"

Both Artie and Jim nodded. "Of course," they said in a chorus.

Arthur blushed with pleasure and pride. Then he glanced at his best friend who looked forlorn with his shoulders sagging and he quickly added, "It's very generous of you, Artemus, but I can't. My place is here, at Jacques's side. If necessary, I will learn to speak French again."

Artie translated in French. " _Arthur a dit: "C'est très généreux de votre part, Artemus, mais je ne peux pas. Ma place est ici, aux côtés de Jacques. J'apprendrai à parler français à nouveau."_

Immensely relieved to keep his surrogate older brother with him, Jacques relaxed. He sipped a new ecstatic mouthful of _Sauternes_ and said, " _Et je t'aiderai Arthur!"_ Then he plunged his mini snail fork into a gastropod cooked in butter, garlic and parsley. Licking his lips. "Mmmm…"

Looking down at his _entrée, une_ _cassolette de cuisses de grenouilles à la crème d'ail_ , Jim said in French, "Artemus _est un veritable Chef_ …" (Artemus is a real Chef.). Then he continued in English. "He often makes me French cuisine, like _Boeuf Bourguignon_ , _Hachis-Parmentier, poulet Basquaise, canard à l'orange_ … and so on. But it's the first time I've eaten frogs legs."

Artemus smiled. "If you like i _t, I will prepare frogs legs for you. There's lot of frogs everywhere we go._ Personally I prefer them with a _persillade_ , like snails."

The older Frenchman said, "That's why you chose to eat sliced frogs legs."

Jacques added, " _Les étrangers sont presque toujours dégoûtés par les cuisses dee grenouiiles et par les escargots aussi._ _C'est pourtant délicieux!"_ ('Foreigners are almost always disgusted by frogs' legs and snails too. It's delicious though!").

Breaking a little round bread in two parts, Artemus smiled. "Jim's very curious, that helped. He's a very lucky man, he has his own Chef." Then he translated it in French. _"Jim est très curieux, cela a aidé. Il a beaucoup de chance d'avoir son propre Chef."_

Jim grinned. "I'm very lucky to have you at my side. Period. _Je suis… heureux de t'avoir à… à mes côtés, et c'est tout."_

Raising again his glass of _Château d'Yquem_ , Artemus said, "Thank you, Jim. I'm very lucky to have you at my side too." He saw Jean and Arthur exchange a complicit look.

Same thing with them.

Closing his eyes in bliss, Jim moaned, his mouth full of creamy frogs legs. Then he offered a large smile to everybody and let out, _"Vive la France!"_

The end?


End file.
